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When
you go to the beach in the morning, what do you feel and see? If you are on the
east coast of Florida, the moments before the sunrise beget clues of a new day.
Low clouds clinging to earths vista are transformed by the precise beams that
poke through the agile dull gray mist. Backlighting creates billows and shapes
that engage your imagination. As the glorious ball of fire creeps above the
horizon, your senses absorb the changes in temperature, and your eyes adjust to
the powerful light. The air around you changes. It becomes warmer. Transcended
in a personal experience, you feel the warm air creating movement, wind.

For centuries, man has tried to tackle the wind, to
control it, and has had some success. The wind lifts, carries. The wind has
multiple faces, faces of comfort and terror.

I was a young man, once. The powers of youth swelled
through every void in my body. But I’m older now. My formative years have come
and gone. Each day I watch my children grow and I stare at their youth, while
they play with innocence and I remember that summer.

Our
Lives

We referred to
ourselves as “Bro’s”. We were always
brothers in that state of mind. A state of mind that envisioned comradery as
the only staple required in friendship. Telling ourselves that the bond would
be forever strong. We were together for the good times, the parties, the toasts
to the winner.

I was part of the pack, and knew both of them—Chad and
Marcus—way back in middle school. We all played baseball on summer nights. Chad
was always looked out for Marcus. When they were together we had a nickname for
them. C & M, constant motion. And here’s why.

Chad liked to be low in the batting order to give
Marcus a chance to get on base. Then Chad would take the plate, face-down the pitcher,
and get ready to swing. Batting gloves on, tight grip, thirty-six once bat and
the arms that could power it through any fastball, he’d eye up the pitcher
getting a read on his movements. The
pitch came, a dropping fastball, then a swing a swoosh and contact. The ball went
over the fences ever time and with Marcus on base, it was nothing but dust and
lighting. Pure speed, dust swirls as he flew by the bases and slid into home
plate.

But Marcus was given other skills, perception being
his greatest. He pushed Chad through classes in his own way. Marcus is the one
who spotted Haley, and made sure Chad talked to the girl who would get him
through all his science classes, but more about her, later. High school was the place you made plans for
a good-time, well for some of us anyway. Chad lived in both worlds. He liked
the parties, but school mattered. Chad had big dreams. Marcus was different.
Different, but not odd. Marcus enjoyed the social times, but there was always something,
some idea engaged in his mind. He had to learn about everything by touching,
seeing, and listening. He was way more curious about stuff than I was. Marcus
did things his own way. He was pushing against something or searching for
something that I didn’t understand. For
an entire summer, most of us all thought we were embracing our visions of
life—that were beyond our youth—while Marcus took aim on life’s promise of
adventure.

The
Boats

Chad and Marcus came from families
that had the ability to provide a lot for two young energetic men. They lived
in an upper middle class neighborhood, two streets apart. They had easy access
to the beach for sun and volleyball, the lagoon for sport fishing and shared
similar interests in the ocean and all the desires it conjures up in your youth.
Chad’s father had two boats. The first was an awesome fishing boat. The second was a thirty-three-foot sailboat
named—Destinies Shadow. Both boats
were well equipped and Chad took the Coast Guard safe boating classes with his
father when he was in eighth grade.

Marcus’s father, Doug, saw where his son’s attention
was going. It was obvious Marcus liked the water, especially the ocean. Doug
loved the water but never devoted the time to learn about boating. So, he sought
out the advice of many people, which included Chad’s father, Brian, about
buying a boat. Brian discussed many
things with Doug about boating and asked him several questions.

“Why do you want a boat? What type of
boat do you want? What will be the purpose for purchasing a boat and where will
you keep it?”

Doug thought about a family power boat. I know this
because I was in their house during the discussions. Marcus kept talking about
a sail boat and he must have had an impact on the decision. Because his father
eventually came around to the same conclusion. A sailboat would be perfect,
large enough for the family, so Doug put his time, money and efforts in that
direction.

In the late spring, while Marcus finished up eighth
grade, his father purchased a new thirty-five-foot sailboat. Doug spent more
than ninety-five thousand on the blue water beauty with small oval shaped
tinted windows, smooth lines and a large teak deck around the helm. He named
the boat—Devolution.

Devolution
was a fractional sloop, very fast under the right helmsman, and equipped with
full electronics, gps, battery backups and a gale rider, to help control the
boat in storms. He and Marcus took the Coast Guard safe boating classes and,
together, they learned basic maneuvers like tacking. Soon they were ready to
take on the seas, but only on clear weekends with a lite off shore breeze.

*****

Shortly after Marcus and his father completed the
sailing course. I saw them one day while I was at the end of the jetty fishing.
I spotted the large red and blue main sail of Devolution, as they were on a
dead run through the inlet going back to the marina. The wind—onshore—pushed
hard on the sails while the wake created from her bow smashed on the rocks of
the jetty. As she passed, her metal mast stood tall and was held strong by
stainless steel cables of the standing rigging, with sails tight, her bow
pitched up and down in three to five seas, while Marcus cranked on a winch to
tighten the genoa. The white tipped waves against her being rebuffed by the
massive fourteen-thousand-pound vessel and turned into a wake of good fortune
for a tiger shark chasing bait fish through the water. I watched them go by,
maybe at six to nine knots, a seamless steady force of wind, water and bright
sun. And Marcus, focused, living in the moment, learning new things.

*****

Marcus learned as much as he could about sailing in
those early years. He related to me one
time when I was over his house his thoughts on sailing. ‘I have trouble just
reading a book about sailing. I need to get out there on the water and learn by
doing.’ And that is what he did.

Often he put himself in the moment. One time I went
with him and recall Devolution in a
close hauled position. Wind over the sail, the tell tales straight out at the
top of the main, the vessel heeling and the water splashing up on deck. Marcus
watched everything. Example he pointed out to me the water flowing past a
channel marker towards shore. ‘That’s the tide coming in at about one knot.’ From
that day on, I could tell his instincts were firmly in a stage of development.

By the time they were seniors, they had taken each
boat out separately. Friendly competition started and they both discovered the
art of showing off. But let me tell ya— Chad excelled at this more than Marcus.
There were moments of dazzle for the attention of two classmates—Haley and
Jennifer—although, it was clear, at least to me, that Haley didn’t need any
more showmanship, she liked Chad. Meanwhile, Marcus started to talk about more
serious competition, something he was not ready for. He learned a lot, but had
never been seriously challenged by the sea and the weather at the same time. At the marina restaurant Marcus proposed a
race to Chad.

“Let’s have a race next month up to Hillsborough inlet.”

“Sounds good,” Chad replied.

“It’ll be a practice run for a race later this summer
to the Bahamas.”

“Suddenly, we have a new fearless captain in front of
us, Captain Marcus, wants to race to the Bahamas. Okay, you’re on. We’ll do it.
Hillsboro next month. Bahamas, before the end of summer. You know I’m going to
whip you.”

“Just boastin’ for Haley. Nothin’ but a show-dog”

Haley stared and shook her head at both of them. While
the rest us stood locked arms in a circle and yelled out, “When constant-motion
hits the seas, what we do? Party. When constant-motion makes the play, what do
we do? Party. Yeah, we the Bro’s made
sure of a good time. Chad and Marcus laughed. Through the laughter, Chad stared
at Haley. He gazed at her every day. Many times when she was not looking.

She always told Chad, “I can feel the weight of your
stare.”

Haley had long dark hair, was five-foot-nine inches
tall, very athletic and proved to be very challenging for Chad, sometimes she
was more than he could handle and during those times, Chad hung with us.

Haley was more than any of us “Bro’s” could handle,
she was straight—A—with honors. She had her choice of colleges to go to. She chose to rest during the summer at home
before college in the fall and to be with Chad. You could say they were in
love.

As talk of the race progressed, we proposed a party at
the finish line for each race. The party—any party— was a strong force that
pulled at Chad. It meant good times with friends and a chance to celebrate
victory in front of Haley.

Thank you for reading the first three chapters of this short story.

The Florida Straits, a story inspired by Jack London's To Build a Fire, is in the process of publication

A link will be posted soon where you can read or listen to the final version.

Traveled a lot in South America. Extensive interest in Europe. I write short stories and flash fiction primarily for the Young Adult readers. My writing is influenced by real life experiences and observations of our wonderful world. Currently working on getting published. I have completed, several short stories, working on two Novellas, and a Novel. My self published book, Conversations, is currently available on Kindle Select.

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THE WRITER

It's a solitary gig, not for everyone. I write and blog for one reason, to communicate in some small way with people.

Some of my stories are darker, some are just about life as you emerge from adolescence and begin your life among the working class. I think a about the Young Adult reader most of the time when I begin writing a story.